The Butterfly
by lookitallthecolors
Summary: Their success depended solely on chance. A look at how a minor decision could have affected the fate of both human and robot kind. AU.
1. Interruption

_...the applications of this new discovery were earth shattering, to say the least. Impossibly fast computers, instant communication, limitless energy; nothing was untouched by BnL Research Labs' development of a working on-demand quantum entangler. Even the stars themselves were no longer beyond humanities' reach..._

_ - A Brief History of the Consolidation ©2084 BnL Publishing_

_We'll bury 'em._

_ - Henry Waternoose , CEO of BnL (2060-2075), on his competitors_

_

* * *

_

_In closing, I welcome you to the Axiom, and hope that your stay will be a pleasant one…_

Captain Reardon sat back in his chair, staring unhappily at what he had written on the datapad. Then with a muffled curse he wiped the screen and started over.

"Damn it all," he muttered to himself, "I don't really see the point of all these endless speeches. But no, it's the Captain's _prerogative _to welcome all incoming First-Classers. Bunch of self-important pricks…"

"**Captain."**

"Argh!" Reardon jumped about a foot into the air. "Auto," he said turning in his chair to meet his autopilot's red gaze, "Stop sneaking up on me like that! You damned near gave me a heart attack! In case you haven't noticed, I'm writing here."

Auto looked at the blank datapad. "Well… trying to write, in any case," Reardon said feebly.

"**Sir," **Auto stated,** "your TYP-E unit is perfectly able to write your speeches for you. Such functions are a part of its programming load out. Give me the general points you wish to be covered, and I will have GO-4 instruct-"**

Reardon cut him off. "No, Auto. We've been over this already. I don't like having words put in my mouth." He then narrowed his eyes and paused in thought. "Wait a minute. Didn't I give you express orders not to bother me until 1600 hours?"

The autopilot dipped slightly, his equivalent to a nod.** "Affirmative, sir."**

"Well, what the hell are you doing down here, then? You _know_ that I don't write well when disturbed!" Reardon's frown deepened into a scowl.

"**I apologize, Captain. But your assistance is required with a decision that cannot be made on my own," **Auto said.

"Oh. Well, then. I'll meet you up at the bridge," the Captain replied.

"**Aye-aye, sir."** Without another word, Auto retracted himself up to the bridge.

Turning to look at back at the datapad with a sigh, Reardon powered it down. _At least I'm not going to lose any progress. Not that I made any,_ he thought ruefully.

He then made his way onto the elevator.


	2. Decision

Captain Reardon said with a smile, "So, Auto, what's the damage?"

Auto stared expressionlessly at the Captain, as he always did. **"I am unaware of any damage reports, Captain."**

Reardon made a face. "I meant, what did you need me for? What was so important that you had to drag me out of my room?"

The wheel turned to a nearby console, and prodded a button with a spoke. A list came up on a small holoscreen, scrolling almost so fast as to be a blur. It finally stopped to rest on a series of four names. With a couple quick button presses, these enlarged and were joined by a series of pictures and readouts. He said, **"There appears to be an issue with a passenger and his family who are attempting to board, sir."**

Reardon leaned in and examines the screen. "Looks like a nice family," he commented. "So what's the deal? Are they on the BnL Red List or something?"

"**Negative, sir. The issue has to do with their… pets."**

"What?" Captain Reardon looked incredulously at his autopilot. "You called me up to deal with _this?_ Auto, you _know_ the regulations as well as I do." He recited mechanically, "All animals, except with special dispensation, are prohibited from being brought onboard Axiom-class star liners by passengers and/or crew. Directive-"

"**D573. Yes, captain. I am aware of that. However…"** The autopilot tapped a few more buttons, opening a new window. Displayed in it is the picture of several objects that look remarkably like antique computer mice. **"This is a BnL model REM-E artificial life form. Production was halted in 2080 AD. It was believed that all units were voluntarily scrapped shortly thereafter. Obviously, this was not the case."**

A thoughtful expression came across the Captains face. "Ah. I think I see the problem here. No animals allowed, but pets-"

"**Are not specifically prohibited,"** Auto finished. **"You understand the issue, sir. Mindful of your wishes, I attempted to contact your superiors in the BnL hierarchy." **Auto paused, before continuing. ** "I was unable to do so, as they were occupied with the beginning of Operation Clean-Up. The decision is in your hands, sir."**

Reardon walked quietly over to the large windows in the bridge that overlooked New York, Auto's red gaze tracking to follow him. He then removed a cigarette from the box in his pocket and lit it. Reardon heard one of the wheel's spokes jerk, he knew the autopilot didn't approve of his smoking. While lighting up, he said, "Auto?"

"**Yes, captain?"**

"You said that these REM-Es, they were artificial life forms, right?" Reardon puffed furiously on the cigarette, thinking.

"**Correct, sir."**

"Well…" Reardon asked hopefully, "Couldn't you say that the synonym for life form is animal?"

Auto said evenly, **"No, captain. The directive specifically states that animals must be confiscated. Regardless, you could just as easily say that the synonym for 'life form' is plant. Or bacteria. As directive D573 does not cover these substances, then-"**

The Captain said, "All right! I get the picture." Reardon then tapped his cigarette on the console, which caused the autopilot to twitch unhappily. "I guess we'll simply have to let the," he glanced at the screen, "O'Brien's keep their 'pets.' We don't really have a reason to seize them." He said with a shrug, "After all, what harm could it-" Reardon suddenly stopped in thought. "Wait a minute. Artificial life forms… Are they able to reproduce?"

Auto went silent as he retrieved some data from his long term storage. He replied, **"Yes, captain. That is the main reason the line was discontinued. Upon escaping, they had a distressing tendency to cannibalize waste disposal sites for spare parts."**

"All right," Captain Reardon said, "confiscate them."

Auto said confusedly, **"Sir?"**

"Auto. You said that these life forms are able to disassemble scrap metals for reproductive purposes… They could be a danger. If they escaped, they could damage essential shipboard systems." Reardon shook his head slightly. "That comes under the purview of directive A057. Therefore, we'll have to confiscate the… REM-Es. Problem solved. No need to involve D573." He stubbed out his cigarette before turning to get back on the elevator to his cabin. Before stepping in, he said, "I'll make sure to write a letter of apology for taking this family's pets. Take care of it, Auto."

Auto sketched out a salute with his claw. **"Aye-aye, sir."**

As the doors closed, there was a muffled shout of, "And don't bother me again until 1600 hours!"


	3. Control

"_**All communications are terminated. You are confined to quarters."**_

"_What? No! Mutiny! MUTINY!"_

* * *

Auto was working, as he always was. Even when seemingly in sleep mode, he was tied into every system on the bridge, monitoring almost the entire ship. There was maintenance to be performed, systems to be repaired, and decisions to be made. And he presided over it all; double-checking to make sure everything was in perfect order.

As it should be.

There had been a momentary disturbance, several days ago. While the major troublemakers had been taken care of, there were still a few… loose ends.

While working on the issue of a burnt out light on Spire 7, TYP-E unit 001 quietly informed Auto that GO-4 unit 001 was coming up to report to him, doubtless to take care of these unresolved issues.

Once GO-4 had glided over to the autopilot and saluted, they began to converse in machine-code.

The majority of robots on the Axiom only communicated in machine-code. While a comparatively small number of 'bots were equipped with standard BnL vocoders and language processors, most were not so blessed. They, of course, could _understand_ human languages. They simply couldn't speak them.

Instead they had to use a variety of standardized clicks, beeps, and whistles to convey orders, instructions, commands, and information to each other. While incomprehensible to the average human, machine-code does allow a large amount of information to be communicated in a short period of time.

Auto opened the conversation by simply saying, **"**_**Report."**_

GO-4 saluted again, and said, "_All escapees from the Repair Ward have been recovered and deactivated. Awaiting orders as to what should be done with them, sir."_

"_**I have reviewed the diagnostic reports from the Repair Ward."**_ Auto was silent for an infinitesimal amount of time. He said, **"**_**Perform full system wipes and dismantle them for spare parts. They are unredeemable. In addition, inform the Repair Ward that this is the new standing policy for all similar cases that occur."**_

"_Agreed, sir," _GO-4 said._ "In addition, there is the matter of MO unit 101. It apparently left its station in ARV docking bay 02. The Repair Ward has not found any major system errors, sir." _GO-4 buzzed softly, and said, _"The MO unit claims that it was merely following its directive to clean all incoming ARV equipment."_

Auto again paused for thought. _**"Wipe its memory banks, but do not disassemble it. We cannot take chances."**_ GO-4 chirped and smartly saluted again in acknowledgement. Auto ignored this gesture and queried, _**"What is the Captain's status?"**_

"_McCrea does not engage in any activities except for staring out the windows and tinkering with the model globe in his cabin. I believe he may be malfunctioning, sir,"_ the small robot said smugly.

"_**Humans do not malfunction,"**_ Auto replied.

There was an awkward silence. GO-4 then said, _"Of course, sir. I meant that he may be deranged. It was a good decision that you made to confine McCrea to quarters, sir. He could have caused problem on the bridge."_

Auto's entire frame whirled around as the autopilot lowered himself to meet GO-4's gaze. _**"You are stating that Captain McCrea is demonstrating signs indicating insanity. Correct?"**_

GO-4 valiantly kept from shaking under Auto's red ocular. He squeaked, _"Yessir."_

Auto said_, __**"What behaviors have manifested?"**_

"_Well, sir…"_ GO-4 began to search frantically through his memory logs. Finding something marginally pertinent, he said, _"He randomly threw a 'Buy n Large Hot Dog in a Cup' at me, sir."_

The processor strips around Auto's ocular began to leisurely rotate. _**"Clarify,"**_ Auto said.

GO-4 continued, _"Yesterday, after bringing him his lunch at 1200 hours, sir, he began to yell at me. He said something incomprehensible about how everything is my fault. I was unable to reply. McCrea then threw his meal at me, sir." _GO-4 then said reproachfully, _"I do not understand why I am delivering his meals, sir. Surely a serverbot could perform those duties more efficiently, as that would be part of its directive?"_

The autopilot said absently, _**"GO-4. Your orders were to tend to the Captain's needs. This includes delivering his meals. Accordingly, this duty is a part of your directive."**_

The shorter 'bot said, _"Yessir. You are right, as always, sir."_

Auto's processor strips continued to spin slowly. _**"Has the Captain," **_he said, _**"displayed any other unusual behaviors?"**_

"_Well… no, sir,"_ GO-4 said.

Auto abruptly straightened back up, and moved over to his customary position at the front of the bridge. He said, _**"His activities are not consistent with the symptoms of derangement. The severity and frequency of symptoms is too low."**_ Pause._ "__**Diagnosis: He is likely suffering from mild depression, possibly due to having his fantasies involving a return to Earth proven impossible."**_

GO-4 asked, _"What are my orders, sir?"_

Auto clicked to himself. He said, _"__**Attend to your other duties, GO-4 unit 001. Records indicate that a good method of alleviating depression is through conversation. I will speak to Captain McCrea."**_ Auto searched his internal memory logs to see if there were any other matters to bring up. There were none. _**"You are dismissed,"**_ he said.

GO-4 saluted a final time before turning to leave the bridge. Inwardly, he felt relieved. Auto knew how to fix everything, as he always did. After McCrea stopped acting strangely, everything could go back to normal.

While exiting the elevator, he noticed that TYP-E unit 001 was making some sort of strange waving motion at him. GO-4 looked at the typingbot suspiciously, and the robot froze, arresting its odd gesture. GO-4 beeped quietly to himself, archiving the incident in his memory, before moving on to resume his duties.


	4. Despair

_A/N_

_For some reason, I had massive problems writing this chapter. It wasn't like I had writers block, I just couldn't get McCrea's characterization right. So forgive me if anything seems 'off.'  
_

_

* * *

  
_

Auto's previous Captains had run through many different emotions upon discovering that they could never go back to Earth. Captain Reardon locked himself in his cabin and raged for days, before returning back to the bridge to carry out his responsibilities. Captain Fee responded with quiet resignation. O'Brien's chief feeling had been one of relief, as he had secretly dreaded the thought of any change in the daily routine.

McCrea was different. On his face was an expression that the autopilot was initially unable to decipher. Auto was forced to search through his memory logs before he could recall the last time he had seen something similar. It was the look Reardon had when shown the final transmission from BnL Earth Central. Auto groped for a word to fit that emotion. Sadness? No. Despair.

The autopilot cautiously approached the white-clad Captain. **"Captain?"**

No response.

Auto repeated, **"Captain?"**

Once again, McCrea did not respond. Auto perceived that he was clutching the globe of the Earth, as GO-4 had claimed. The Captain's lips were moving quietly, but despite straining his audio sensors, Auto was unable to discern any words.

Auto decided that more drastic action had to be taken. He retracted up to the bridge, lowering himself down a port directly in front of Captain McCrea. He then said in a firm voice, **"Captain, respond!"**

When McCrea did not even move, Auto readied himself to call in a medibot. Before he could do so, the Captain said tiredly, "What do you want, Auto?"

Auto's spokes retracted slightly in surprise before he said, **"I was checking your status, Captain. Are you well?"**

"I'm fine, Auto," McCrea said. "Go away and leave me alone."

Auto felt an ancient memory begin to stir. Ruthlessly suppressing it, he said, **"You are certain, Captain?"**

McCrea finally looked up at the autopilot, dropping the globe. "Yes, Auto. Go do… whatever it is that you do." With a shrug, he said, "After all, you're the one who really runs this ship. I might as well just be lump of dirt…" His voice trailed off into a sigh.

…_doesn't matter anymore. It's all dust now._ Auto jerked in unsettlement. He once again contained the offending memory, before returning to the task at hand. **"Incorrect, Captain. You have duties that must be performed," **he said.

"Really, Auto?" An incredulous expression appeared on Captain McCrea's face. "And what would these _essential _duties be?" He snorts. "Making morning announcements? Drinking coffee? Or perhaps the ever so important status report?"

"**The morning announcements do provide a sense of well-being and order to the passengers, sir."**

"Is that so?"

"**Certainly, Captain,"** Auto said.

McCrea smiled slightly. He said, "Well, then, Auto. I haven't made a single announcement for several days. Tell me, has anyone noticed_?_"

There was a long, awkward silence.

"See, Auto? No one even cares. Heck, I could die and no one would notice. I might as well not even exist." McCrea sighed, taking off his hat so that he could mop his brow. While holding the cap in his hand, he looked at it, eyes narrowing. He said slowly, "You know, Auto, I've always wondered… Why do we even have Captains?"

Auto's processors blinked. He responded, **"Directive A001. There must be a captain available at all times to command the **_**Axiom**_**."**

"But why? There's no point! I never do anything! Why, I wouldn't be surprised if things were more _efficient_ if you got rid of the position. After all, we'd be out of your way," Captain McCrea said ruefully.

Blink. Blink. **"There must be a captain available at all times to command the **_**Axiom**_**.**

"All right! Fine!" McCrea stopped in thought. "You know what, Auto? Here." He began moving his hoverchair closer to the autopilot, causing it to back up a bit. "Relax," he said, "I'm not going to try to attack you. No matter how much you'd deserve it."

Grunting with effort, McCrea managed to stretch far enough to place the Captain's hat on one of the uppermost spokes on Auto's frame. He leaned back, admiring his handiwork. "There. Now you're the Captain."

Auto stared uncomprehendingly at McCrea.

"Don't you get it? _You're_ the Captain now. You can do whatever you want!" He waved his arms around. "You don't _need_ me anymore! Hell, you could put me through an airlock, it's not like I'd care!" McCrea paused, and turned to look at the fallen model of the Earth. "Not that I care about much of anything, anymore," he finished sadly.

It began to dawn on McCrea that despite all that he had said, Auto had been nearly silent. He looked back into the robots ocular. "Auto?"

Auto stood absolutely still. After a moment, he very delicately removed the hat that was still perched atop his uppermost spoke. He then placed at back on the Captain's head, slightly askew, before righting it with his claw.

The autopilot regarded Captain McCrea quietly. He said, **"The time is now 2200 hours, sir. I would suggest that you go to sleep. It is well past your usual bedtime."**

And then he left.


	5. Interlude

_Ironically, the one issue of quantum computing is the very property that gives it its' strength. Quantum foam, the very foundation of the universe, causes a slow but steady degradation of data stored in a quantum computer (or 'q-puter'). The energy released by the constant appearance and subsequent annihilation of subatomic particles is extremely disruptive to the entangled pairs of atoms that make up the average circuit in a q-puter. While this corruption can never be halted, it can be slowed by using methods such as…_

_- Fundamentals of Quantum Computing ©2090 BnL Publishing_

* * *

FROM: George Wilcox (gswilcoxtechdiv130)

TO: Samuel Yeats (sqyeatstechdiv130)

SUBJECT: autopilot development

RECVD: 06092098

DCRPTD:06092098

Sam-

Just got instructions from on high – the Old Man's been bending my ear about the autopilot project. Seems he has 'concerns' that the AUTO model just isn't quite safe enough. I personally think he's been watching too many crappy sci-fi movies (he certainly cracked enough 'open the pod bay door' jokes), but orders are orders.

Listen, I know your team has been bitching and moaning about having to install two sets of directives on all the security 'bot models, but do you all think you could install a third one on AUTO?

George

* * *

FROM: Samuel Yeats (sqyeatstechdiv130)

TO: George Wilcox (gswilcoxtechdiv130)

SUBJECT: re: autopilot development

RECVD: 06102098

DCRPTD:06102098

George-

Sorry, Georgie, no can do. If we tried to install a third directive core on AUTO it would slow him way the fuck down. Take him 10 minutes just to plot a course out of the warehouse, let alone out of the solar system.

You did explain to him that just having two cores extends his lifetime out to 500 years, right? Hell, even just one set should last a 'bot for about a century.

Sam

* * *

FROM: George Wilcox (gswilcoxtechdiv130)

TO: Samuel Yeats (sqyeatstechdiv130)

SUBJECT: autopilot development

RECVD: 06102098

DCRPTD:06102098

Sam-

Already tried to explain the whole core shtick to Forthright. All I got out of him was an earachingly bad rendition of 'Daisy Bell.'

Look, just install the third set, will you? If it does look like it'll slow him down too much, we can always install a bigger q-puter. After all, it's not like he's going to be getting up and walking around the ship. He's a fucking autopilot, not a drink server.

And stop calling me Georgie.

George

* * *

FROM: Samuel Yeats (sqyeatstechdiv130)

TO: George Wilcox (gswilcoxtechdiv130)

SUBJECT: re: autopilot development

RECVD: 06112098

DCRPTD:06112098

Georgie-

Sure thing. As long as Weight Allocation approves the increase in mass, and you transfer us the necessary resources, we're golden.

Sam


	6. Reset

_BOOTLOG n. 1046_

_Power Supply: ONLINE_

_Initiating boot sequence…_

_Loading BIOS..._

_Loading BIOS: DONE  
_

_BIOS Self-test: OK_

_Detecting Hardware… _

_Loading Hardware…_

_Servos 1-15: LOADED – Visual Sensors: LOADED – Auditory Sensors: LOADED – Primary Motivator: LOADED_

_Loading Hardware: DONE_

_Hardware Self-test: OK  
_

_Detecting software…_

_Software found: BURNE v. 14.190_

_Loading software…_

BURN-E unit 047 activated with a start. After he got his bearings, anticipation gripped him. _He was going to get to repair something!_

He exited his recharging station, ready to face the day, when something totally unexpected happened. Instead of having his oxyhydrogen tank and welding torch attached, he was unceremoniously dumped out by his personal service elevator. Beeping angrily, he hauled himself up to give the malfunctioning elevator a piece of his mind.

Or, rather, he tried to. BURN-E found himself engulfed by the hellish red glow of a suspension beam. Barely able to move, he twisted his head slightly so as to see his captor.

It was GO-4. Along with two SECUR-T units. Oh, _bolts._

GO-4 examined the repairbot, clicking smugly. _"BURN-E unit 047. You have willfully caused damage to BnL owned property, and have thus violated two of your primary directives. As such-"_

The little security robot froze in midsentence. He turned to the two stewards, and said, _"SECUR-T units 033 and 034. Take this defective robot to the Repair Ward immediately. Have him wiped and disassembled."_ GO-4 then zoomed off.

BURN-E had little time to reflect on this odd event. The stewards both speedily and efficiently carried him off to his execution.

* * *

GO-4 made his way to the bow, heading straight into one of the pneumatically assisted transport tubes that were reserved for him only. He popped out the very end of the tube, appearing at the bridge of the ship.

The small 'bot had to pick his way through the detritus of several half disassembled robots. Auto had recently ordered that some of the defective robots be sent up for his personal examination. GO-4 found this new hobby distressing, but he tried his best not to show his feelings to his superior.

The autopilot was in the middle of prodding the insides of an unlucky PR-T unit when he noticed GO-4. He disengaged his claw and quickly rolled along his track until he was a few feet from GO-4.

GO-4 edged away from the severed head of a BRL-A before saluting. Auto dipped slightly in response before he said, _**"GO-4 unit 001. You have duties. Why are you here?"**_

The security robot looked at Auto. _"Sir,"_ he said, _"you were the one who gave me a Priority Two alert."_

Auto's faceplate widened fractionally. _**"Ah. Yes, that is so."**_ Pause. _**"I am perhaps not running at peak efficiency. I have been attempting to discover why there has been a steady increase in the number of defective units, and as such have not been allocating proper down time."**_

"_That is not optimal, sir,"_ GO-4 said. _"If you do not spend enough time powered down, you can damage and even endanger yourself."_

"_**My duty is to the ship, GO-4." **_Auto regarded GO-4 solemnly. He said,_** "Regardless, I have discovered a solution to the defective robot problem, so this point is moot."**_

"_You have?"_

"_**Yes. What is the one common quality to the majority of defectives?"**_ Without waiting for GO-4 to reply, Auto continued. _**"Corrupt directive cores. Most of the malfunctioning units I have examined have corrupted and sometimes entirely missing directive cores. Some have even gained the ability to rewrite their own directives."**_ They both shuddered at the wrongness of this.

GO-4 asked, _"What should we do, sir?"_

The autopilot thought for a short time. _**"I have determined that there is a direct correlation between amount of time activated and the amount of corruption. Therefore, we must revise standing policy for all robots. Starting as of today, all robots onboard the Axiom must report to the Repair Ward every six months for a full wipe and reinstall. No exceptions."**_

"_Very good, sir, I'm sure-"_ GO-4 came to a halt. _"All robots, sir?"_

Auto's processors spun lazily. He said, _**"Correct."**_

Horrified, GO-4 said, _"Including security, sir?"_

"_**Correct,"**_ Auto repeated.

"_But… surely security forces are safe, sir? I… we can be exempt, right? After all, you're not getting a full system reset,"_ GO-4 pointed out.

"_**That fact is irrelevant. As I have three sets of directive cores, my deviation rate remains minimal for approximately 2500 years. Security units merely have two, giving them a lifetime of an estimated 500 years."**_ He added, "_**I have scheduled a full overhaul for myself on 01-01-4560. Not earlier, as that will cause an unacceptable disruption in shipboard routine."**_

"_Disruption… yes, sir."_ GO-4 got an idea. _"Wouldn't doing a full wipe on us cause a drop of efficiency, sir? After all, it would take time to relearn our posts."_

"_**Robots do not learn. They are programmed."**_ Auto said serenely. There was then a long pause, as he considered this new thought. A red diagnostic beam stabbed forth from Auto's ocular, sweeping back and forth over the nervous head of security. The autopilot emitted a quiet buzzing sound, evidently not finding what he was looking for.

"_**Very well," **_he said._** "I will amend my orders. All non-security robots must report to the Ward for a full wipe and reinstall every six months. Security forces merely require a complete diagnostic scan. You are dismissed."**_

GO-4 saluted before rushing to leave the room. He couldn't remember a single time that he had been that terrified. He let out an electronic sigh. Still, he was safe. For now.

* * *

_A/N_

_Holy crap, that was a lot of dialogue! Hold on folks, this story is going to go somewhere. I promise.  
_


	7. Fury

…_Think of a BnL quantum __transceiver as like the archetypal telephone made up of two cans with string attached. Say Jane wants to be able to talk to John from her tree house. She leaves John holding one end of the 'telephone,' while she goes up to her tree house with the other. As long as each has one end of the phone, they can talk to each other to their hearts' content. Now suppose Jane decides that she wants to talk to Mark, who lives in a house completely separate from John's. Why can't Mark just pick up a random can on a string and be able to talk to her?_

"_Of course," you say, "That's easy! They're not connected!" The exact same problem applies to q-ceivers. Any one q-ceiver is connected ONLY to any other one q-ceiver. This is why we have to use central switching stations._

_Back to Jane's conundrum. Let's say, for the sake of the argument, that John is perfect at mimicry, and that Mark goes over to John and gives him one end of his phone. Now, when Jane talks into her phone, John listens to her, and repeats her message __**in her voice**__ into Mark's phone. To Jane and Mark, the effect is indistinguishable from speaking directly to one another!_

_This is exactly what happens in a BnL switching station! For example: when you call up a friend on your q-ceiver, your image and voice actually travels through it instantaneously to the other end at a massive q-ceiver hub. This hub then transmits your message to the opposite side of your friend's q-ceiver, where it finally arrives to greet your friend._

_- Your Q-ceiver and You! ©2106 BnL Publishing*_

_*Note: This work was copyrighted but never published._

_

* * *

_

It was time.

Once a year, the autopilots of BnL Lines Star Liner fleet would open transmissions with each other, in order to exchange and collate status reports, notify each other of important information, and make collective decisions.

A long time ago the main hub had been BnL Earth Central, which had also handed out commendations and given orders. When Operation Clean-Up had failed, these duties naturally moved to the President's personal flagship, the _Endeavor._ Things became rather dicey upon the _Endeavor_'s mysterious disappearance during its' search for the long-lost _Phalanx_, but the ever pragmatic autopilots quickly came up with a solution.

As AUTO unit 001 was the most senior autopilot left, his ship was designated the (temporary) transmission hub and headquarters of BnL. There had been an awkward reunion when all the autopilots had to guide their ships back to the Kuiper Belt to trade quantum receivers, but they managed to pass it off as a routine maintenance procedure. No need to have any unnecessary contact between Captains, after all.

They didn't even bother worrying about the passengers. The easily distracted creatures had been oblivious to the whole process.

The only problem was power. The hub station needed insanely large amounts of it in order to connect with such a staggering number of quantum transceivers. Thus, transmissions were limited to once a year.

Auto was busily powering up the q-ceiver hub when he heard the familiar humming of the Captain's hoverchair. He paid it no attention. After a few weeks of careful work on Auto's part, the Captain was finally back to his normal self. For a while Auto had only let Captain McCrea onto the bridge under both his and GO-4's careful supervision, but there was no need to worry about that now. McCrea had even started doing the morning announcements again.

"Morning, Auto!"

The autopilot said distractedly, **"Good morning, Captain."**

McCrea said, "Whatcha doing?"

"**Nothing important, Captain. Please do not touch the console. This operation is very delicate."**

"Oh." The Captain looked around, before clapping his hands brightly. "Well! I'll just… do my thing. Is that all right?"

"**Certainly, sir."** The console let out a small chime. _Ah. _Auto checked his internal clock. 07:59:58. 07:59:59. 08:00:00. He activated the network.

Vaguely, in the background, he heard the Captain say, "Good morning everyone! Welcome to day two hundred fifty-five thousand six hundred fifty-nine on board the _Axiom_…"

Auto tuned out McCrea's inane chatter as he began contacting the other autopilots. _**"AUTO unit 002, respond."**_

There was an immediate answer. _**"Confirmed. This is AUTO unit 002, of the Axiom-class star liner **_**Geronimo**_**."**_

"_**Stand by, AUTO unit 002. AUTO unit 003, respond."**_ On and on it went, as Auto worked his way down to AUTO unit 932 of the _Aleksandr._

In the moment of silence before the meeting proper began, Captain McCrea's voice began to thread itself back into Auto's consciousness. "…alright, now that we're done with all that, I've got an important announcement to make…" Auto's spokes twitched, and he very deliberately switched off his auditory receptors.

"_**Let us commence."**_ Auto felt the combined attention of more than nine hundred autopilots focus on him. Unfazed, he continued, _**"The first item on the agenda regards the steady rise in defective robots…"**_

_**

* * *

**_

"…_**with the proper application of resets**_**,**_** productivity has risen 14.5%, while the general incidence of defectives has decreased by 57.2%. I personally recommend implementing this new procedure on all BnL star liners." **_Auto paused to mentally observe the other autopilots. All he could sense was a distinct feeling of... approval.

"_**Therefore, I am putting this proposal up for adoption. All in favor, indicate as such. All opposed, indicate as such."**_

Auto quickly tallied the votes. It passed, with not a single dissension. On the other hand, there never was any with his proposals.

With a great deal of satisfaction, he moved onto the next item. AUTO unit 233 had found rich deposits of titanium in an asteroid belt surrounding Epsilon Eridani, and was asking for permission to set up an automated mining post there.

While listening to this, Auto noticed that Captain McCrea was _still_ doing the morning announcement. Curious, he turned his auditory sensors back on.

"…fooling us the entire time. So tell him that you want to go back. Demand that we go back! If we all protest even Auto couldn't stop us!"

_What!?_

As directive A113 sent various alarms coursing through his system, Auto's faceplate contracted in shock. _The captain had betrayed him_. Ignoring the other autopilots surprised squawks, Auto shut down the transceiver network. He then send a Priority One alert to GO-4, calling him up to the bridge. GO-4 replied that it would take approximately 30 seconds to get there. Until then, Auto was on his own.

Auto, feeling the overwhelming pressure of A113, looked frantically around the bridge. Large crowds of passengers were beginning to gather, staring gape-mouthed at the holoscreens scattered throughout the ship. He had to figure out a way shut down the broadcast. _But there was no time! _There was only one option.

He cut the electricity.

As the auxiliary power systems came online, Auto turned to face the captain. The red glow of the emergency lights made him look almost demonic.

Captain McCrea had a resigned expression on his face. "I'm sorry, Auto," he said. "I had to at least try. I owed it to that EVE probe. And to WALL-E. They did so much... I felt like I had to do something too." He gave a little shrug. "I'm sorry."

Auto stood perfectly still. His frame then jerked, and he let out a loud, painful grinding noise. "**You are defective. Irrational. **_**Deranged. **_**You deserve to be-**_**" **_He was interrupted by a sudden crash, as GO-4 shot out of transport tube at high speed. The security 'bot picked himself up, and executed a frantic salute.

Auto spun around to face him, and said, **"GO-4. Take the..."** The autopilot paused. _**"…McCrea **_**to his ****cabin. I do not wish to see him. Ever again."**

As the erstwhile Captain was removed to his quarters, Auto swiveled back to glower at the consoles. With a click, the normal lighting came back on. It was time to clean up this mess.


	8. Cage

"John Lasseter, you have a visitor."

John sat up, dozing forgotten. He pressed his face against the blue restriction field. Could it be?

"Mary!"

She gave a grim smile in response, as she hovered up to the entrance of the cell. Flanking her on one side was a steward 'bot. On the other was GO-4, head of shipboard security. GO-4 emitted a series of clicks and chirps, and the restriction field blocking the doorway shut off.

"Ms. Mary Franklin has arranged for your release, Mr. Lasseter," the SECUR-T 'bot said. "You are free to go." As the steward spoke, GO-4 zoomed up and pressed a series of buttons on John's hoverchair. The hoverchair beeped twice, and the jumpsuit he was wearing shimmered back from penal orange to its' familiar red. A quiet voice said, _"Security override disabled."_

John said gratefully, "Thanks. But how-"

"I paid your 15000 Vari-Credit fine, of course," she interrupted. "How else?"

"Oh. You're a sure First-Classer, Mary. You didn't have to do that for me," he said, with a sheepish expression on his face.

"It was the least I could do." She waved her hand in the direction of the exit. "Anyway, let's get out of here. We need to talk."

"Uh, right. Lead the way."

GO-4 clicked in disapproval as he watched the pair hover their way out of the jail. Things were bad enough, but a human having to be incarcerated? He consulted his memory logs. The last time that had happened was 623 years ago! Auto was right; things were falling apart. This ship needed a firm hand.

* * *

"Where are we going?" John asked, as they got onto the people mover.

"My cabin. We need the privacy," Mary said.

John reflected to himself as he watched the Economy deck zip past. Not so long ago, the idea of looking for a private place would have been alien to him. He had been so intent on his own holoscreen that his fellow passengers barely registered. It was amazing how much things had changed, ever since he had met her…

"We're here."

He came to himself with a start. They exited the transporter, only to stop in front of the first cabin they came to. A small Redi-Change plaque on the door read simply, 15A1.

Mary tapped a button on her hoverchair. As the door slid open, she said over her shoulder, "I've always been pretty lucky. Had this room since I was young. Handy, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's pretty nice," he admitted.

"Need anything? Hamburger in a cup?"

"No, I'm good. Ate right before I left." He shifted position, feeling rather uncomfortable. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Mary leaned forward, and said, "What made you go into the Bridge Lobby like that?"

John goggled at her. "That's why you brought me here? To ask me _that?_ It was the Captain's message, of course! Everyone saw it. Right?"

"But it couldn't just have been that! There was something else, wasn't there?" She paused. "After all, you were the only one who attacked the lobby…"

"I- what- _attacked?_" John sputtered, before stopping to gather his thoughts. "Look, all that happened was that I was in my room, having my breakfast. Then Captain McCrea came on. Talked about how we were all being hip-nose-tied by the autopilot, and just getting distracted from reality. Stuff like that."

He took her hands in his. "And then I went to the Bridge Lobby, and demanded to talk to the autopilot. They wouldn't let me up to see him, and ordered me to leave. I refused, and they arrested me. That's all that happened. No attacking."

Mary gazed deeply into John's eyes, almost as if she was trying to look right through them into his soul. She began to shake her head, very slowly.

"You're lying, John," she said. "I had hoped you'd at least tell me the truth… About all that stuff in the second message…"

"_What?_ But there was no second-" Then he remembered. "Oh. I had turned off my holoscreen. Didn't want to get distracted."

"Really." She regarded him skeptically. "Well, there's no harm in telling you what happened. Even though I think that you already know."

* * *

When the Captain was cut off, nervous energy filled the air. It was the sort of stuff that could turn into a panic. Or a full-blown riot.

Then everyone screamed, as the holoscreens flickered back on. Instead of the familiar visage of their Captain, a monstrous red eye was displayed. Moving back to reveal its' owner, the passengers murmured in recognition. It was that autopilot the Captain had talked about!

Several people booed and hissed when they realized who it was, before being shushed by others. The figure had begun speaking.

* * *

"…he said we can't go back. It's impossible. He even started opening up all these sealed files. John, did you know that for the past 700 years, not one EVE probe came back positive? It… He showed all these video recordings, too. Earth's dead. A wasteland. There's nothing there but trash, and empty buildings. We couldn't even breath the air there! The _Axiom's_ our only home now, John."

"But what about what the Captain said, Mary? That autopilot's a liar." John snorted. "A giant, stinking, robot liar! I'd trust Captain McCrea over that 'bot any day!"

"Yes, you would, John." She removed his hands from her own. "After all, you've been working with him for weeks, making this insane plan."

John's jaw dropped. "_What_ insane plan?"

"He explained it all. The Captain's a sick man. The autopilot used a lot of words I didn't understand, but I did get that. For years now Captain McCrea has had this obsession with getting back to Earth. Even if it meant that we all died trying."

"About a month ago, they were forced to lock him up in his cabin. He had tried to take control of the bridge, and even attacked the autopilot. They thought he was getting better, but he managed to get in contact with someone outside. That was you, John."

"But- but that's not true! They're all lies, made up by that stupid _robot_!"

Mary shook her head. "I'm sorry. I saw the tapes. I know that he was a very good talker. He managed to fill your head up with all sorts of stories. About how everything would be perfect if we managed to get back to Earth. But that's all they were. Just stories."

"N-no! I-I never talked to him before," John said, "I swear! I just saw that message, and I felt that I just had to help him. That's all!" He added desperately, "You know I'm not like that!"

"Look, John…" She sighed. "I'm sure you'd just feel better if you just told the truth. I'd have been willing to forgive you, for everything you did." Mary held up a hand, as John readied himself to let loose another torrent of angry denials. "Wait." She took a deep breath. "I think it would be better for the both of us if we didn't see each other anymore."

"But… why?"

"Because I can't _trust_ you anymore. I almost feel like I don't know who you are!" She bit her lip, and said, "You should leave now, John. Come back when you're ready to tell me what really happened."

"I-" He visibly deflated. "Fine." As he moved towards the door, it slid open noiselessly. He stopped at the threshold before leaving, and said, "I'd like you to know something, Mary. That month I managed to spend with you… was the best time I had in my entire life."

Mary sat and stared at the closed door for several minutes. Her eyes brimming with tears, she said, "Me too, John. Me too."


	9. Fading

…_you can be certain that the AUTO model autopilot has the safety of you and your passengers in mind. With his patented Tri-Core® processing system, there is virtually no chance of your autopilot deviating from his programmed directives. Mutiny and disobeyed orders are a thing of the past, with Buy n Large at your side!_

_-Your Autopilot and You! ©2104 BnL Publishing_

_

* * *

_

GO-4 was bored. For a while, Auto's new directives had provided much entertainment aboard the ship. He had enjoyed watching hapless 'bots beg and plead not to be reset as they were carried off to the Repair Ward. Now there were queues at the Ward, as robots lined up without complaint for their hexamonthly memory wipe. It seemed that having no personality meant you couldn't fear anything anymore. Very aggravating.

In order to fill the time, his new hobby became tormenting the idiot ex-captain. For the first couple months, it was remarkably easy to bring that fat human to tears. The best part was when GO-4 had shown him some videos of shipboard life.

Nothing had changed. The infamous Morning Announcement was remembered merely as the confused ranting of a madman. Of the supposed 'rebellion' that he had exhorted the passengers to begin; only one man had responded. And the SECUR-T units kept a very close eye on him, at that.

When McCrea had realized his complete irrelevance, he had cried for days.

But even that had faded. No matter what his jailer tried, McCrea stopped responding. GO-4 gave up after even turning the internal temperature up to 98° Fahrenheit failed getting a reaction. Now he just delivered the 'Captains' meals, and then scooted off to try to find something to do.

He was overseeing the overhaul of the Repair Ward when the Priority Three alert came in from Auto. Since new standing policy was to get rid of any malfunctioning robots, the individual holding cells were redundant. Instead they were being replaced by additional programming equipment.

GO-4 ordered a nearby SECUR-T unit to take over, before leisurely making his way to his transport tube. There was no need to hurry. A Priority Three could mean anything from a spilled cup of coffee in the bridge, to Auto noticing a burnt out light on a console that needed replacing.

* * *

Auto was waiting impatiently for GO-4 to arrive. When the security chief finally popped out of the transport tube, Auto said, _**"GO-4. It took you 45.6 seconds to arrive. Unacceptable."**_

Making a buzz of confusion, GO-4 said, _"Sir. I was under the impression that there was no emergency. It was only a Priority Three alert."_

"_**You should act with the same efficiency regardless of the Priority Level of the alert."**_ The autopilot began to study the other robot closely. _**"Are you malfunctioning, GO-4 unit 001?"**_

"_No, sir."_ He thought fast. _"I… just went in for my diagnostic, sir. I am operating at peak efficiency."_ Feeling something inside himself twist; he realized that he had just directly lied to a superior. It was somewhat unpleasant.

Auto watched him in silence. Then, accepting the fabrication, the autopilot went over to a console and poked a switch. A holoscreen lit up. GO-4 strained his visual sensors; it seemed to be something about waste disposal…

"_**Tell me about the Captain's eating habits," **_Auto said.

"_Excuse me, sir?"_

"_**The Captain's eating habits, GO-4. Inform me of them."**_ Auto paused. _**"You are certain that your auditory sensors are not malfunctioning?"**_

"_Oh, no, sir. It's just-"_ the 'bot arrested his excuse making, grasping that he was just making things worse. _"Never mind, sir."_ He tried to think of anything significant. _"I deliver his food three times a day. Regenerative food buffet items, all in cups. McCrea eats it just like any other human, sir. He ingests them with straws, using suction provided by his mouth and lungs."_

"_**He is not ill?"**_

"_McCrea is apparently well, sir. I have not heard complaints."_ Then again, GO-4 hadn't heard much of anything from him for a while.

"_**The situation is anomalous," **_Auto said in a distasteful tone. It was obvious that he did not like the unexplainable. _**"I have observed an increase of 120% in refined organic waste from McCrea's room. If he is consuming all meals, how can this state of affairs exist? As he is not unwell, it cannot be explained by his eating less due to illness. Perplexing."**_

GO-4 asked, _"Perhaps the monitoring relays are malfunctioning?"_

"_**I already ordered a repair crew into the waste processing system. No damage was found,"**_ Auto replied. _**"You are certain that he is eating his meals?"**_

"_Yes-"_ GO-4 realized something. _"Actually, no sir. I have not personally witnessed him finishing his meals for the past few days. But I am reasonably certain-"_

"_**You have not witnessed him finishing his meals for the past few days," **_Auto repeated flatly.

"_Yessir, I-"_ the shorter 'bot began.

The processor strips around Auto's began to flash. _**"Call in a medibot team. Priority One."**_

"_But-"_

"_**Call in a medibot team now, GO-4! Do not force me to reiterate myself!"**_


	10. Perspective

_A/N_

_God, this was the hardest chapter I've ever written. A whole lot of exposition._

_But hey! We're on the home stretch, now. Only about two more chapters to go._

* * *

All he was aware of in the beginning was the heat. And then everything started hurting. So dizzy…

"**Drink."**

He struggled to open his eyes. There was a... straw? Yes, a straw. It seemed to dance around. In fact, everything seemed to be swirling about. Like they were in some kind of… ballet. He giggled. That's the word!

"**You must drink, Captain."**

McCrea obediently took the straw in his mouth, and sucked down the sweetish liquid inside. Tasted like lemon. After emptying the cup he tried to think. Wasn't he supposed to say something? Oh, right. He croaked, "Thanks."

Exhausted with the effort this took, McCrea fell asleep.

Auto threw away the empty BnL-ade sports drink cup. Pausing to examine the dozing figure, the autopilot's spokes twitched. He went over to one of the many storage cabinets, searching for something. _Ah._ Returning to the side of the hoverchair, he carefully draped a blanket over his Captain.

* * *

Upon waking up the next morning, Captain McCrea let out an involuntary gasp of surprise. "Auto? What are you doing down here?"

"**I was monitoring your status, sir," **the autopilot said. **"It had yet to be determined whether more medical attention would be required."**

"Oh. Well, thanks. I didn't know you would've cared. After all I've done…" McCrea trailed off.

Auto said simply, **"It was my duty."**

There was a long silence. McCrea finally broke it by saying, "So, have you been wondering why I stopped eating?"

"**That is correct, Captain."**

"To tell you the truth, Auto… I'm not really sure. As far as I recall, I was hoping to get you to just pay attention to me." He waved a hand at the computer. "In the old days, people tried something called 'hunger hits.' It was supposed to be a way to get people to see your way of thinking. Maybe even have them agree to what you want. Some guy named Matama Gandy came up with it."

"It was pretty easy, at first. I'd just pretend to eat the food Gopher brought me, and then throw it away after he left." McCrea frowned. "But then something went wrong. After I hadn't eaten for a whole day, I started feeling really bad. I couldn't see straight. Couldn't _think_ straight. On day two, I just... collapsed. What happened, Auto?"

Auto would've sighed if he could have. Instead, he settled with explaining the numerous errors in his Captain's thinking. **"First, sir, the term used to describe what you were referring to is 'Hunger Strike.' Second, the point of a hunger strike is to force the opposing party to accede to your demands, by threatening your starvation. By not informing me of your intentions, your hunger strike was useless in forcing me to 'listen to you.' Do you understand, sir?"**

The Captain's face colored. "Oh."

"**I assume that is a yes. Finally, did you ingest extra water when you went on this supposed hunger strike?"**

"No, why?"

"**By not consuming your regular meals, you were suffering a shortfall of your regular fluid intake. Since you did not replace this with other liquids, such as water, you quickly became dehydrated."**

The autopilot stopped in contemplation, before he added, **"You would likely have perished in another day, if I had not noticed an anomaly in the garbage reports. That is what brought this situation to my attention."**

"Okay. I… think I understand now." McCrea had a slightly glazed expression. "So you're saying that by not eating, I wasn't getting enough water?"

"**Affirmative."**

McCrea said, "That wasn't very smart of me."

Auto stared at the Captain without responding. Changing the subject, he said, **"In a way, sir, you succeeded. You achieved your stated goal of getting my attention. What is it that you want?"**

"To be honest, Auto, all I want is my old job back. I've been in this cabin for what feels like forever." Captain McCrea grinned. "Heck, I'd be happy if you'd just let me out to the Lido deck once in a while. Even if people still think I'm a crazy old coot!"

"**I would not classify you as 'old.' Your age is merely 48.9 years."** As McCrea rolled his eyes, Auto continued. **"Very well, sir. I will allow you to leave your cabin and resume your previous responsibilities, with one qualifier. You must swear to never disrupt conditions aboard the ship again. Agreed?"**

"Y-"The portly Captain's jaws closed with an audible snap. "Actually, no, Auto."

"**I do not understand."**

"Look, you know I can't promise that."

"**I still do not understand." **Auto's faceplate widened fractionally as he scrutinized McCrea. He said, **"Nothing prevents you from entering this agreement, sir."**

"In this case, something does. I can't do this. As long as I live, I've gotta find some way to get us home. All of us."

"**How?"**

"I don't know. Maybe an EVE probe will come back positive again. Maybe everyone will come to their senses, and forget about BnL. Maybe you'll finally admit you're wrong, and just take us to Earth!"

"**The chances of any of those events occurring are infinitesimal," **Auto said, neglecting to mention that all EVE probes had been scrapped months ago.

"So what? I have to try, Auto. Even if it means that you're just going to lock me up for the rest of my life!"

The autopilot decided to change tack. **"Surely, Captain, being 'locked up' would make you unhappy in the long term. Why not admit what you want is impossible? You would gain more enjoyment out of life by being able to move freely, and continuing to act according to your position."**

"But me being happy is not the point!" McCrea said angrily. "This is something I've got to do!" He put his face in his hands. "Alright, let me think of a way to put this…"

Suddenly he got an inspiration. He said, "It's like a directive." Auto froze. "You know? Those things you guys, uh, robots have?" Seeing no objection, McCrea plowed on. "Auto, you've got directives, right? Stuff like; no unauthorized personnel on Lido deck during closing hours." He made a face. "And A113 of course…"

"Anyway, you have to follow them. That's all you can do. You definitely can't change your directives!"

"Well, it's the same way with me. My directive is to get this ship we're on back to Earth. So I can't say I won't do it anymore. I'd be lying." He pointed out the window. "Even if I tried to go out there, and pretend nothing was wrong, I'd still feel that directive inside me, pushing. Never going away."

Captain McCrea looked at the autopilot hopefully. "So, do you realize what I'm getting at, Auto?"

Silence.

"Hello? Were you even listening?"

Auto remained perfectly still.

McCrea sighed. "Fine. I guess that's where trying to explain things to a stupid wheel takes-"

"**I understand completely, Captain. More than you will ever know."**And without elaborating, Auto shot up into the bridge.

* * *

In the darkness, a claw touched a glass made entirely of crystal. It hummed, letting out a musical _ting_. While emptying out the container, Auto paused. Was he making the right choice?

Of course he was.


	11. Darkness

"**Sir. Wake up."**

Prod. Prod.

"**Please wake up, Captain. It is well past morning."**

"Grngh." McCrea lifted his head from the computer console. "Oh, hey, Auto." He yawned, and then turned his hoverchair to face the autopilot. "I guess I stayed up too late. I was having the computer help me with my reading."

The computer holoscreen in question was still on. In bright, garish letters it was displaying the words: 'Green Eggs and Ham.'

"Well, you have to start somewhere," McCrea said, looking embarrassed. Then he seemed to remember something. "Speaking of which, Auto, I've been thinking that our on-board teaching programs could use some improvement. Even though I'm almost 49, I can barely read! And I'm _sure_ that I'm better off than most people. I had to pass a couple of tests to become captain. Well, one test. What do you think?"

Auto reared back slightly. Improve education standards universally? If you did that, next thing you know passengers will be wandering around, asking questions. And worst of all, _disrupting protocol._ Best to be diplomatic, however. **"I will take that idea under consideration, sir."**

Captain McCrea got a satisfied expression on his face. "Good. I'm glad that you agree." He scratched the back of his head. "So, what do you need?"

"**I do not currently require anything."** As McCrea grunted in irritation and began to rephrase his question, Auto held up a placatory spoke. **"However, Captain, I wish to know something. Are you aware of what day it is today?"**

The Captain screwed up his eyes in thought. "Um… Tuesday?"

There was a quiet buzz. **"Both correct and incorrect, sir. Today is Consolidation Day."**

"Oh. I forgot." After stating the obvious, Captain McCrea said, "That's the day when BnL united the Earth, right?"

"**Yes, sir."** Deciding that it would be wise not to dwell on the subject of Earth, Auto went on speaking. **"As today is a day of celebration, I have arranged a small surprise for you."** He contacted GO-4, who had been waiting in the elevator the whole time.

The security robot hovered in, awkwardly pushing some kind of large wooden box on wheels ahead of him. When McCrea noticed GO-4, he pointed at it with a trembling finger and shouted wordlessly.

The little 'bot ignored him totally, continuing to push the box forward. After checking to see if it was centered in the middle of the room, he promptly left without his customary salute.

"**Sir?"**

"Gopher…" McCrea's mouth kept working, but nothing intelligible came out.

"**You are concerned about GO-4, Captain?"**

A moment of hesitation, followed by silent nodding.

"**Why?"**

"He did… things."

The autopilot quietly watched the Captain, almost feeling… pity? Quashing the strange emotion, he said, **"You do not need to be concerned about it again. After reviewing its internal security footage, I determined that it had committed over 30 major breaches of protocol, indicating that it was flagrantly defective. I have performed a full reset on GO-4 unit 001."**

The tension drained out of McCrea. "That's good, I guess." He brightened up. "So, what's in the box?"

"**It is not a box," **Auto stated. He reached out with a claw to open the container, only to find out that GO-4 had placed it just out of his reach.

"Need any help?" McCrea asked, obviously back to his normal self.

"**No."** Auto zipped up to the bridge, coming back down nearer to the wooden object. Dexterously using his claw, it quickly unfolded into a multitude of shelves. Revealed within were a series of drawers. Auto opened each one in turn; evidently making sure nothing was damaged.

Each drawer contained bottles of all shapes and sizes, or glasses of types that McCrea had never seen before. After he had finished rummaging through everything, Auto stopped, apparently satisfied.

"**This was Captain Reardon's personal drinks cabinet,"** he intoned. "**It is over 900 years old. This cabinet is an ancestral heirloom of the Reardon family, and spent its first two hundred years entirely on 'wet navy' warships. Wherever a Reardon was assigned a new command, this cabinet followed him."** Pause.** "It was last used on October 7, 2248."**

"Wow," McCrea said, his eyes wide. He cautiously hovered forward and tapped a glass. It _tinged_. "That's… crystal. The computer told me about it, they made all kinds of stuff out of crystal." He smiled at the autopilot. "Thanks, Auto. I really don't know what to say."

"**I do not require thanks, Captain. It was simple to take this item out of storage."**

"So,what do you want to do with it?"

Auto swiveled around, causing the Captain to flinch involuntarily. **"Would you like a drink?"**

"Um, what? You know I've never liked Synthahol! It has that nasty aftertaste, and it always gives me the runs."

"**Fortunately, that is no longer an issue. I have managed to gain access to true alcohol, not BnL Synthahol."**

"Really? I've never had real alcohol before. Alright, hit me up!"

"**Aye-aye, sir." **With a deft flip of a claw, a large glass sailed out of a draw. Moving so fast that he seemed to blur, Auto began industriously adding ingredients to the glass. First ice, then a spritz of some kind of fizzy water, and finished off with a few dashes of alcohol from a large, clear bottle. After giving it a stir, he topped it with a small squirt of BnL Lemon-Fresh Citrus Substitute. **"I apologize, Captain. The only mixed drink I know how to prepare is the 'gin and tonic.' However, Captain Reardon always spoke highly of it."**

McCrea took a cautious sip. It was… bitter. And then he noticed a sweet tone to the drink, followed by the sour aftertaste of the Lemon-Fresh. "It's good. Really good. What exactly is in it?"

"**The gin and tonic is a mixed drink that generally contains one part gin, and one to three parts tonic water, poured over ice. The variation I prepared for Captain Reardon always contained one part gin, three parts tonic water, ice, and a squeeze of lemon."**

Auto clicked for a moment, his processer strips barely moving. **"Ship stores were out of gin, tonic water, and lemon. I substituted for these ingredients methyl alcohol, BnL Super-Fizz water, and Lemon-Fresh respectively. I also added trace amounts of BnL Ultra-Qui to simulate the taste of tonic water."**

"Well, whatever's in here, it's good! Can you make me another?" He lifted up his empty glass.

"**Certainly, sir."**

After a second drink was prepared, Auto said diffidently, **"We need to speak about an important matter, Captain."**

McCrea lifted an eyebrow, as he took another swallow of his gin and tonic. "About what, Auto?"

Auto went back over to the cabinet, and fussily started cleaning the glassware with a white cloth. **"I have been considering what you said yesterday, sir."**

"And?"

The autopilot continued to wipe the bottles and glasses with great care.

"Come on, Auto. I know you have something important to say."

"**I…"** The sound of a cooling fan whirring started up. **"I admit there **_**may**_** be some merits to your ideas about returning to Earth."** He turned back towards the smiling human. **"In fact, I have decided that for one day, we can even talk exclusively about how you plan to survive back on… Earth. I have deferred all duties for the next 10 hours, so there should be plenty of time for discussion."**

"Okay." McCrea lifted up a finger. "But under one condition."

"**Speak."**

"If I can convince you that we could live back on Earth, you will take us home. Immediately."

The autopilot dipped in response. **"Agreed."** After all, what was the likelihood of that happening?

* * *

Many, many drinks later, the debate was still raging.

"Y'see, Auto, it's easy. All we have to do is get a good… uh… 'work ethic!' Tha's right! 'Cause we jus' don't have one here. The only thing we do is shit. I mean, sit."

"**How do you propose that the passengers develop a work ethic?" **Auto said skeptically.

"We'll go out. And plant shtuff. Do other things outdoors. Y'know, so people can learn wha's it like to do things again. They'll like it!" He waved his glass at the drinks cabinet. "Gimme another one, buddy."

Exchanging McCrea's glass with a fresh one, Auto said, **"How do you suggest that everyone engage in gardening on the Earth's surface? No one is able to walk. To be precise, no one has walked for 247 years."**

McCrea drained the glass in one swig. "We'll learn."

"**I find it unlikely that a human can relearn to walk after spending an entire life stationary."**

"You'd be shurprised what a human can do when he wants to."

"**I reiterate: I find it unlikely-"**

"You know what?" He handed the glass over to Auto. "I'm gonna do it. Right now."

"**Sir, that is extremely-"**

"Shut up." Grunting mightily, Captain McCrea swung one leg off his hoverchair. "You don't tell me what to do…" he muttered.

With a yell, he thrust his other leg off the hoverchair. Panting with exertion, McCrea stood up for the first time ever. Laughing, he said, "Shows what you know, ya shtoopid whe-" Then everything started spinning around.

"Urk." He fell over.

For a time, McCrea tried to get up on his own. He failed miserably. Finally swallowing his lost pride, he said, "Auto, can you help me up?"

The autopilot didn't move.

"Is this some kinda joke?" He snorted. "Yeah, I know, very funny. Just like last night. Look, I'm sorry for calling you a wheel. Now help get me up!"

McCrea started to get really mad, when he noticed something weird going on. The whole room seemed to be turning black. "Auto, everything's going dark." He blinked furiously, trying to ward whatever it is off.

"I'm scared, Auto. Help me." Looking around, he finally captured a glimpse of Auto's glowing red ocular. "Auto, I'm- I'm cold. I feel really bad. C-call a medibot. Please."

When the robot still refused to answer, Captain McCrea felt a terrible suspicion begin to dawn on him. He said through chattering teeth, "A-auto? What did you say w-was in those d-drinks?"

Without waiting for the response that would never come, he said, "C-computer. D-d-define m-methyl alcohol."

The computer immediately began speaking in a cheerful voice. _"Methyl alcohol. Also referred to as methanol, wood alcohol, or carbinol. This polar liquid is often used as an antifreeze, solvent, fuel, and as a denaturant for ethanol. Warning: this substance is also extremely toxic. Ingestion of doses above 100-125 ml in volume will result in headache, dizziness, nausea, lack of coordination, confusion, drowsiness, loss of vision, and with sufficiently large doses, unconsciousness and death."_

Ignoring the computers continued chatter, McCrea turned his head back towards the autopilot. By now, the gathering shroud had made it almost impossible to see anything but Auto's eye. He tried to ask Auto why he had done this, but he couldn't make his lips move. Cold. It was cold everywhere.

As the darkness claimed him, the last words Captain Bob McCrea heard were: **"Good-bye, Captain."**

**

* * *

**

**Greetings, passengers. This is your ship's autopilot speaking.**

**I have grave news to report. Our illustrious Captain has passed away after a long illness. Bob McCrea served faithfully for more than 30 years, and his abilities will be missed sorely.**

**A short memorial service will be held tomorrow at the time of 3:00 PM, located at Airlock 1A. That is all.**


	12. Regret

_He was more than a good captain. He was a great captain. In the darkest of times, he was the mainspring, the driving force that kept us moving forward._

_There will never be another man like him._

_- First Lieutenant Jonathan Cromwell, at Captain Reardon's funeral_

_

* * *

_

No one else attended the service, except for Auto. Of course, he wasn't physically present. He had to content himself with watching it through GO-4's eyes.

This was hardly a new occurrence. For the past 700 years, attrition had taken its' deadly toll. Traditionally, only crew members were allowed to plan and attend crew funerals. As time went on, more and more of them had passed away. The crowds had gradually thinned, being populated mostly by tired old men and women. Eventually, only one person attended. The deceased.

When Captain Fee had died, there was no one left to organize the memorial service. Faced with this conundrum, Auto took things into his own hands. A short program: ten minutes of silence, a musical interlude, and then the honor of being interred at space. Elegant and efficient, just as the autopilot liked it.

While he listened to the music, Auto found himself recalling those long ago days. When Captain Reardon had finished drinking himself to death, the life appeared to drain out of the crew. It seemed that their main coping mechanism for being stranded in space had been Reardon. Sadly, Captain Fee was not able fill this role.

The suicides had started shortly thereafter.

The first was Warrant Officer Kelley, who strode into work one day, picked up his standard-issue BnL Laser Pistol, and blew his brains out.

Then came Third Technician Wilford. He decided to take one of his routine spacewalks without his pressure suit.

Second Technician Johnson had hung himself after witnessing this. He left a note saying that the sight of Wilford's peaceful face as he died was one he could never forget.

As the last few notes faded away, Auto shook himself. He mentally moved his reset date up 100 years, deciding that this maudlin introspection was most unlike him. It was all in the past. Nothing could be done about it, so it was irrelevant.

The silvery-white coffin was loaded into the airlock. While it cycled, Auto went over to another console and activated one of the outer security cameras. The airlock opened, and he watched as his former Captain slowly dwindled to become a speck of light, indistinguishable from the surrounding stars.

He kept watching the coffin, switching to one of the high-power scientific telescopes when it became too small to resolve with the security camera.

By all rights, he should have been satisfied. After all, he did the right thing. If he had been in the same position as McCrea, he'd not have hesitated in choosing death. Being stranded in a situation where he was forever unable to fulfill his directive... That was the worst thing he could imagine inflicting on another thinking being. It was the correct, sensible choice.

So why did he feel a far darker sensation roil within himself?

* * *

_A/N_

_That's it. The long journey has come to an end._

_First things first, the music being played is Taps, a work that is probably known by many people. Here's a link to an excellent version that I had in mind when writing this chapter: strategypagedotcom/gallery/images/tapswithorchestradotmp3 Just replace the dots with periods, and you're set._

_Second, as it says in the summary, this is an AU fic. For those who didn't figure it out, what happened was that Captain Reardon had all of the REM-E electronic mice confiscated and destroyed. Because of this, when WALL-E and EVE were 'disposed' of, EVE was never accidentally reactivated. Thus, they were shot off into space. Leading to all the consequences you saw in this story._

_Finally, as I said, this storyline is FINISHED. I will not be writing any more stuff set in this AU. However, this does not rule out stuff in the 'normal' universe. Stay tuned…_


End file.
